My little bag of butterflies ...

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

In that little park, on that paved walkway,
A blissful morning, chirping birds here and there.
Nice little breeze, and just a little sunshine,
Just perfect time, to get a short walk.

I was slow and sluggy, she leading my way,
She leant on my right hand, my left had that bag.
She was pulling me hard, the air was so fresh,
Her laughter filling, cheeks a lil blush.

She ran in circles, me standing still,
She calls from behind, I turn, and she runs.
She smelt the flowers, sneezed, shook her head,
Her wavy hair, floating blithely in breeze.

She had a glimpse, guess that bag caught her glance,
She came jumping down, with an eager, thin face.
Her little finger pressed on my right wrist,
Such a ringing voice, asked me, whts in tht bag ?

I knelt down and smiled, her face still held up,
I said its just, a butterfly bag.
Butterfly bag! she said in a gasp,
how could it be, they just fly always high.

I said its real, she crooked her face,
I said its real, she started to cry.
I said ok, you'll see it open,
But don't blame me then, they'r so prone to fly.

So I stood up, unknotted the bag,
Just for a second, the world stood so still.
Millions is meager, there were so many there,
Bright yellow flies, in blossoming flight.

All in one second, every one of them flew,
All I was left with, just my empty lil bag.
She was still standing, her face still held up,
Said in a sad tone, you let it fly!

I knelt down again, prodded the one,
That was sitting, just on her hair.
It too flew high, her eyes sparkled lit,
I held her close, and kissed her cheeks.

:-)

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